Stillwell's becoming a regular zoo!" Dead, dead, dead . . . "No. No, I don't want anything . . . music sounds nice, thanks . . . O Sunmother's Light! I really did it then! Jonuta's career is ended!" Dead, dead . . . Cinnabar squeezed the hand that grasped it too tightly. It felt hot. Because she's been asleep, that's all, the Jarp reminded itself. Not to worry. "Pository. Ended.

Gone. Jan? Want to talk about it?" She shook her head forcibly. "No. Later.

Plenty of time later. I feel ... I feel . . . I just . . ." 138 "Feel like you need to take another nap? I'll stay." Nervous, Cinnabar was being too solicitous. Janja's headshake was impatient. "I-oh! It's done! Really done then, Cinn-I really did do it!" "You really did do it, Captain Janjaglaya.

There really should be a reward. After all, the most competent and infamous slaver along the s.p.a.ce ways! Billions will praise you without your ever knowing-billions will thank you. and never mind that you can't hear them." Maybe Cinnabar was her best friend, despite all the time she had spent with Sweetface. That was business, although the teacher and the learner had grown close. Still, she liked Cinnabar better as a person, and they had been through so much, and Cinnabar loved her ... My best friends. Jarps; two Jarps.

And that was Cinnabar's third or fourth attempt to make her feel heroic, a hero, rather than a triumphant murderer. Dead. Dead! Janja retrieved her hand and brought the other out from under the coverlet. Pink hands, overlaid with a bit of tan. She clapped them, then pressed both clasped hands under her chin.

She sighed and stared at the ceiling. Her eyes caught the light. Cinnabar saw the flash, the glitter. "I ... hm! Strange! Um! Cinn . . . you know what- what I'm feeling? What I want?" "I'll bet I do!" The Jarp bent suddenly to kiss the pale breast Janja's movement had freed of the cover. It was bare and uprounded muscularly. Its crest had firmed in response to the cooler air. It was beautiful. Cinnabar kissed it and felt its supine friend shudder, almost violently. The Jarp smiled. It probably wasn't occurring to Janja just now that Jarps knew; they could smell s.e.xual arousal, even s.e.xual willingness. To those of Jarpi, pheromonal scents were strong and unmistakable. Janja did think about elementary biopsychology: "Oh, 139 oh Cinnabar . . . it's natural, isn't it! So-standard. After violence, fear of death, then triumph . . . it's standard: s.e.xual need! Are you ... is that insulting? I mean it seems so-so mechanical, my wanting you just now." "Don't be silly," it murmured, nuzzling.

The pretty pink peak grew some more, under its lips. "I always want you, Janja. I could add 'And if it's a "natural and standard" need right now, what else are friends for,' but that's too tame. I said I want you." "Then come to bed. Please." Cinnabar squeezed the pale hardness of that bared breast, and rose with a laugh. "Please, she says! You couldn't stop me now, luv! See me try for a galaxy-wide undressing record!" Janja saw. She watched the revelation of that long rangy body. Red-tipped b.r.e.a.s.t.s definitely female. Hips too narrow for most females and yet no more angular than Kalahari's. b.u.t.tocks womanly longish and yet quite round, like a man's. Legs tauter, more definite of musculature than those of most women, and yet little more so than Janja's.

Certainly the p.e.n.i.s and t.e.s.t.i.c.l.e were not womanly! On the other hand, the thin-lipped slit was there, too, and it was all female. A functioning, congenital hermaphrodite, ready to be man and woman, woman or man to its friend; to "Captain Janjaglaya" in need. Janja sat up, coverlet slipping down, and held out her arms. Cinnabar smiled and held up a staying finger. "One second," it said throatily, and hurried to the light control. That was unnecessary; on Sunmother, lighting in this cabin responded to vocal commands.

Cinnabar programmed "R" for "red" and "Twi" for twilight level. In that s.e.xily ruddy glow, it returned to the bed, and Janja. "One second," Janja said, holding up a finger to stop the naked Jarp just at the side of the bed. She leaned that way, sliding a hand around to cup one tight orange b.u.t.tock.

Tugging, holding Cinnabar that way, 140 she bent to kiss the smallish p.e.n.i.s, to lick and nuzzle, to slide her mouth over it. She moved mouth and tongue and head until the Jarp organ thickened and grew inside her face. She was more devoted, more orally fixated and attentively loving than she had been in months. Months. Cinnabar's hands felt good, warmly good, gliding over her hair, long firm fingers combing through the blond strands. She felt its body quiver against her forehead and under her hand, and she was pleased to be the cause. "Would . . . uh, ummm ... oh, would you . . . like my mouth, too?" Janja sucked hard, shaking her head. She made the negative a definite one. That side-to-side movement made Cinnabar groan in pleasure. Her own idle left hand rose to her breast. The standing Jarp watched her fingers caress her own warhead, pluck at its nipple, cup-and then crash the whole unusually tight ma.s.s against her chest as if determined to squash it, to force it somehow to retract into her own chest. The Jarp saw the blond's arm quiver with strain. "Uh," Cinnabar gasped. And, "I want to do that! You want your b.r.e.a.s.t.s fondled and crushed, and I want to do it." "Ummm," Janja said, answering with her mouth full. She nodded against the Jarp's lower belly. Abruptly its hands were pushing her head away, forcing. It joined her in the bed, hurriedly. They curled swiftly to arrange themselves allowing for the centimeters' difference in their heights. Lengths, now. Janja continued her loving tonguing and mouthing along with her rearward fondling, while a hand enveloped one of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s and an unusually round mouth the other. An unusually long, slim tongue moved rapidly over it. Pointed 141 birdlike tip slithering and whipping over a nipple that erected rapidly. Long minutes pa.s.sed in that sensuously red glow, and the only sounds in the cabin were of two delighted people in the grasp of rising s.e.xuality, of pleasure given and simultaneously received. An unusual urgency ruled Janja, and never mind its violent catalyst. She had become a doting, ardent lover to a being who always was. Their hands grasped, tightened hard. Dark fingers clamped like thin cables into glowing pink breast, and kneaded. Their teeth teased and nipped. They guided each other with wordless sounds and little movements. Neither could be still, as both rapture and need intensified. Janja's whole head was moving now, with a force that rocked her body, so that she took in every bit of that alien slicer again and again. The sounds of that were salacious, positively obscene. Waves of sensate pleasure strobed through her every nerve and cell. "You ... are going to ... end me,"

Cinnabar gasped, clamping its hand hard. "And ... I will love it ... but don't you-don't you want me in ... I want in you, darling!" Janja took reluctant leave of the beloved morsel she had forced to grow so much. The bed bounced with her movement, which also dragged her breast out long, before it tugged free of the six-fingered grasp. Turning on the bed, gasping, eyes alight and aglow in the ruddy twilight. Cinnabar gazed at the tautness of upturned b.u.t.tocks, the kneeling, parted legs that displayed the sliced purse of their juncture. It hurried to kneel upright behind that demanding vista. When it started to use a hand to guide itself into her, another hand came back under the kneeling woman. It seized on that mouth-wet Jarp slicer, and tugged. "Uh!" The gasp of union was almost in unison, and then the long orange body was straining hard against the upturned 142 rearward cheeks of the shorter woman, striving to imbed even more of itself in her. And that was impossible. "If you don't want it hard," the Jarp muttered in a voice that quaked, "you'd better jump up and run, now!" Janja's reply was to brace herself and jam back with strength. "Uh!" And the Jarp grasped her hips to return the pressure. Janja braced and moved; Cinnabar moved long and slowly, then faster and with increasing force that filled the air with slapping sounds. The delighted, gasping Jarp knew that women took their men in this position, on Aglaya. It loved the position and the way she ground back. It did not know that in just this way, animalistically and deep-reaching, another Jarp had taken Janja long ago, on the s.p.a.ceship of the man who had fed her an animal breeder's aphrodisiac before commanding that his crew, each and all save only the big-wigged woman, rape the little blond "barbarian." Then he had sold her. Jonuta. "You are absolutely sure you're all right? Please-if you aren't, please tell me!" "Can I get you anything?" The two women hovered anxiously over the man propped up on the bed. With a restrained smile, he shook his head. His voice rumbled up from his chest, which was only partially covered by a short robe of midnight velvet that in another era would have been reserved for a sultan enthroned. "I am absolutely sure I am all right, Kenny.

Yes, HReenee, you can get me less wurra-wurra wringing of hands, and some more bioflav juice." The HRalix-born felinoprimate named HReenee nodded and moved back bonelessly. Seemingly she flowed to the door of the s.p.a.ceship cabin to fetch more of the vitamin 143 C-rich drink. She knew to add just a little Qalara Pa.s.sion dry gin. "Kenny: quick, while she's gone-I love you." "Oh, Jone!" The big woman fell upon the prostrate man, holding him and kissing him, leaking tears on his neck and chest. His hand pressured her back, moved on it. "I think I love her too, but we both know what a fickle mercurial b.a.s.t.a.r.d I am, and how many times I've fallen into infatuation. Not love, Kenny.

Infatuation." "I know, I know," she said, holding him fiercely, kissing and kissing while the tears flowed. He held her loosely, half-sitting and half-sprawled in his bed. Patting and rubbing her broad back while he stared at the cabin's ceiling. "Listen. I want you to hear it . . . I want to hear it, Kenny. "I was suspicious of Kenyaras, even after we made our bargain for walking cargo. I made sure he left the lounge first. Then I went into the rest room with my briefcase. I did it all, alone. Put on the aurasuit and activated the image of you in the silver halter-the Thrilling Wonder Damsel. I became you, wearing that outfit. Then I tried the new projector. It worked fine! It made it appear that I was walking by your side. Except that / was strictly an empty holoproj, while the 'you' anyone could see was really me, in the aurasuit surrounded by your holo-image. Confusing?" "Oh Jone, oh Jone. Don't talk about it!" She was leaking a lot more tears, now. "I want to." He patted her back, with some force. What he did not say was that he didn't just want to talk about it; he needed to. "I walked up the spoke-'we' walked along that tunnel, Kenny! I saw her way up the tunnel, running toward us. Ghanji, surely, and absolutely beautiful. About twenty- 144 five. Suddenly she seemed to stumble. Clapped a hand to her chest and slowed. Oh, that was clever! Diverted my attention and eased my nervousness about her, all at once. I could see her gasping for breath. I never saw the stopper. Never." She made a gulpy sobbing sound and held him tight enough to hurt. He was nearly killed, nearly Killed! "She called me by name, Kenny. Twice. The voice sounded familiar, I think. Vaguely familiar. Then she was running toward us again. Close, now.

'Remember Janja?' she called, and I heard the stopper. I swear, just for an instant, and saw the beam because I know what to look for-Booda knows I've seen enough stopper beams! She was firing at my image, not at me-I was you or appeared to be, and that tricked her. In an instant I realized that I'd been tricked too, and how-with another aurasuit and holoprojection! My own methods, used against me!" And it was Janja, Kenowa thought, clinging tight. Hate rose in her. It had to be. We checked every ship docked at Franjistation . . . and who else could it be-s.p.a.cer Sunmother, owned by Janjaglaya Wye of Outreach!

Outreach my b.u.t.t-it was Janja! And that ship was the first to redshift-immediately! "And I slapped my hand to the projector that created my image ... to let it vanish as she shot-as she Poofed it! Fried me-in cold blood! Anyone behind us was either mighty lucky or Poofed, because there's nothing about a holoprojection even to slow a stopper bolt. "See-I hit the cut-off to let her think she had Poofed me, and I thought she would run on past. Keep running, to escape. But as I was reaching for my stopper, she hit me with an Outworlds-type Two beam. It had to be one of those. And that was that. I was unconscious. Naturally the aurasuit kept showing me as you. I came to being carried to station medical, by two cargo-handlers. Too dumb to know they were carrying an unconscious man and not you, I 145 suppose. Mustn't have tried to grab a feel, or they'd have known. I made a fuss, started kicking and squalling, and they let go. Without a word for those nice boys I ran, back to the hub, and kept running until I was in the women's lounge. Anyone who was looking saw you run in there, of course." Kenowa tried to giggle while she was busy sobbing and nuzzling. The sound was uninspiring. "Any enterprising male who hung around waiting to see you again when you came out-well, he's still wondering what happened to you. The woman who was just about to enter when 1 left was shocked, of course. I just kept moving. I came straight here to the ship. With the shakes, and a real headache." She was burrowing, streaking him with tears, going for his crotch with her kiss-dispersing mouth because she was Kenowa and he was her man and he had almost been killed and she wanted to do this, had to. That was how HReenee found them when she returned to his cabin with a big pla.s.s of carbonated juice of bio-flavonoids. She stopped still, gazing at them, staring, loving him, hating Kenowa right at this minute, wanting to kill. On each hand the single remaining claw of her ancestry slid out, retracted, slid out. . . . The punctured pla.s.s began to dribble pinkish yellow juice. He put a hand on the wigged head bobbing over his loins. His dark fingers gripped loosely, holding her there, silently bidding her continue. "Thanks, HReenee. I need that. Pour it into something else quick, will you-seems to be leaking. You can go if you want, but I really do wish you'd stay." And in his cabin on Coronet, Captain Cautious smiled at her. 148 about it. The trouble was, now it was also not at all happy or proud about having betrayed Jonuta. Sweetface wished it were with Janja now. They could mope together-and maybe bring each other out of it. But Captain Janjaglaya did not desire company. (She didn't want to be called Captain Janjaglaya, either. "I failed that test!" she had snapped, cutting them off further as she cut herself off inside.) "She has told us all, more than once, that she has stayed alive and striving-enduring and coping-only by thinking of her goal. Her Mission. For a year, she has dreamed of it. The quest for Qalara and the destruction of Jonuta. Corundum promised her that and she joined him.

h.e.l.lf-excuse me, Kalahari; let me put that another way. Janja felt that Kalahari promised to help her get Jonuta, and so she joined her. On Resh she was not only a slave, but in the hands of certified textbook s.a.d.i.s.ts. She stayed alive by thinking of escape. She escaped! She got herself free, and she killed those three b.a.s.t.a.r.ds into the bargain. She got herself off Resh, with a little help she won't talk, about. And in a shockingly short time she had learned enough to be a student advisor-and had killed Srih, and had become Corundum's . . . had joined Corundum." "Would you kindly stop repeating that G.o.dd.a.m.ned furbaggin' wh.o.r.emongerin' sisterslicer's name?" Kalahari snarled.

"I'm going for another drink." And she stood. Trafalgar hardly glanced at her.

"Already she had changed. Janja on Aglaya was no killer! She soon had enough of Co-that murderous flainer, and joined you of Satana. You know what that led to. The riot on Mott-chindi. Corundum's ins.p.a.ce revenge. The forced-planetfall on Knor and slavery to those-" "Sawed-off stump-legged furbaggin' s.a.d.i.s.tic sons of frogs," Cinnabar supplied, without smiling. Trafalgar glanced at Quindy. She wore flop-top and shorts. At the outside of each upper thigh a decoration 149 gleamed; four fifths of a thin ring of large diameter, each of gleaming crystal quartz even brighter against the jet of her skin. The other fifth of each ring was imbedded in her flesh. Souvenirs of the Knorese captivity. "Exactly," Trafalgar said. "We all escaped-and Janja killed again, for all of us. Next-Jorinne. She tried to rescue h.e.l.lfire all alone, and was captured by the same kidnappers. More s.a.d.i.s.tic swine! She endured, she survived- she attacked the captors and rescued herself and h.e.l.lfire! And all the while it was her goal that kept her going through monstrous adversity-the goal she saw as a Holy Mission. Jonuta. And then she had the means! This ship, and us. Mostly you, Quindy and Sweetface. Then came the excitement of the chase. Does any of you think she ever gave thought to what she'd do after she got Jonuta?" He gazed at them in silence. They looked back silently, and looked down. "The chase! Lord lord and Theba's navel, from Jorinne to Thebanis to Qalara to Luhra to Ghanj to Franjistation! And brilliantly-with your brilliant help, Sweetface-she got him. She used Jonuta's own ingenious methods to end Jonuta's career, at last." "And good riddance," Quindy muttered, staring at nothing at all. "And I suppose we all see your point, Traf." She sighed. These days she looked as dolorous as Janja, or nearly. "Well, I'm not sure I do," Kalahari said, reentering the lounge bearing a new drink. "What's your point, Truh-falgrrr?" He glanced at her, one eyebrow up. He made no sweeping gesture. "Sister mine, if you retired from the s.p.a.ceways only to booz, you're better off returning to the owl-hoot trail." "Nag, nag-the what?" "Just an old cliche. Sorry. My point is simply this, and it is all our problem: Janja grew up elsewhere and elsewise 150 from us, and never thought about what it was she wanted to do. Now she has accomplished her Holy Mission that was her reason for living and continuing to try. So what's she going to live for now?" Janja's friends gazed at him. In Janja's cabin, Akima Mars displayed an extraordinary litheness and, for a definite m.a.s.o.c.h.i.s.tic secret agent, an astonishing penchant for cruelty. Once she had got herself extricated from the awful tri-penile Ape of Balto, she swung to her captor and kicked that villainous Lazareth Lang directly in the face. Blood sprayed.

Holographic genius had made viewers of this Akima Mars meSlerdrammer dodge and squeak, all over the galaxy. Janja didn't dodge or even blink. She was staring at the microtaped holomeller, but she was not seeing it. Or if she saw, she was not registering any of Setsuyo Puma's ("The Biggest Pair In The Universe") travails or heroics or, currently, cruelties designed to appeal to the so-called darker side of her viewing fans' natures. What do I do now, Janja of Aglaya was thinking for the hundredth or perhaps thousandth time. I've killed my reason for living . , . what do I live for now? Her thoughts wandered along murky trails again-for the hundredth or thousandth time in the past few days- and she did what she had never done. She availed herself of what Trafalgar called "Stiglal'kohl" for the fourth time in the past hour and a half. She poured a strong one. She also added the lemon flavoring she liked and skipped the antintoxicant. Staring unseeingly at the screen, she prowled the cabin.

Thinking of Jonuta. Remembering Aglaya, and Tarkij, and an Aglayan s.p.a.cefarer known variously as Whitey or Flash- an Uncle Tom, in ancient phrasing.

Thinking of slaves and masters and corpses. Masters she had slain. Chulucan and 151 Sicuan and their major-domo Izhan, on Resh. Boskar and . . . well, another, she'd forgot the name-the Knormen. And Jonuta. Jonuta, master slaver. Oh. Oh yes, she thought, reversing polarity on the closure of her "uniform" so that it gaped open to the crotch. / almost forgot Srih! Oh you're one of Them now, Janjaheriohir! Gray, gray, but splashed red with the blood of men you've killed. Slavers, all slavers and slavemasters. Evil men, oh yes.

Killed with these gentle little hands off' 'barbarian'' Aglaya! She glanced at the screen. The makers of the Akima Mars series starring Setsuyo Puma, "The Biggest Pair In The Universe" at 134E-64-100, purported to be making holodramas of pure black and white, pure good and evil. Akima Mars versus all the bad guys. The baddest. Always she suffered and always she prevailed, after torture and sometimes worse. Good prevailed, and everyone a.s.sumed that the s.p.a.ceways were better for it, for Akima Mars's presence along its pa.r.s.ec abyss. The whole galaxy was better for it. The universe! "The whole dam'

universe is better because 'Kima Mars beats the s.h.i.t out of all its nemeses-all bad guys!" She hoisted her pla.s.s in toast to the hyper-busty hyperstar in the holoval screen, just now good guyishly blowing away an entire s.p.a.ceship full of presumably totally evil followers of the totally evil nemesis of this film. So what do I do with my life now? Akima Mars is fiction.

Just fiction, and purest fantasy at that. And Janja staggered. Angrily she drank, put down her drink to haul off her scarlet jumpsuit (stumbling back to sit d6wn suddenly and unintentionally on the bed, snarling at a universe safe for the good guys that nevertheless made her clumsy). Oh, he was a cool and handsome dog, badguy Jonuta was. I'm glad I met cool and handsome goodguy Tr'falger Cuw, or I'd think Jonuta was the coolest and handsomest 152 man I've ever met. The only one who taught me something like respect, because he was cooler than I was, and cleverer too-except once. (Why didn't Kenowa scream?

I'd have screamed.) He treated me worse and better than anyone! I showed the swine, I actually backed him down . . . and d.a.m.n him, he showed me he wasn't a swine. He turned and left. No no, he would not rape me. Oh no-he just proved his power and my position by drugging me so that I was a willing victim when he had Srih rape me, and Arel, and Sw . . . Sweetface. She wrestled the pants off her legs and flopped back on the bed. "Maybe I should go kill Swee'face too," she told the ceiling. "Make it seven. Kill 'em all, Janja. Kill 'em all.

You an' 'Kima can make the whole slicin' universe safe f r Aglayans!" Why didn't Kenowa scream? I can't go back to Aglaya and I can't be another d.a.m.ned badguy pirate. I even have a s.p.a.ceship, but I can't pa.s.s as its captain. What am I going to do with my life now? (I'd have screamed, seeing him get killed, if I were Kenowa.) "All I know is piracy and killing," she called out to no one, and she began to cry. She awoke with a foul brown taste in her mouth and a headache and she was alone. Quindy hadn't come to bed. Oh. I locked the door. Sorry, Quindy. Bet you had to spend the 'night' with Trafalgar, you poor thing! Why hasn't that oh-so cool handsome hyper-competent walking enigma ever tried to bed me? Why didn't Jonuta force me? He could have. Jonuta was stronger! She 'dragged herself up and, holding her head carefully erect and still against its pounding, went over to unlock the door. 153 On her way to the closet she remembered that she could have unlocked the door by voice command, without getting up. That brought anger at herself, which led irrationally to tears, and she whirled to fling herself at the bed and weep. Sometime or another Cinnabar came in, dear solicitous Cinnabar, and she ate Cinnabar like there was no tomorrow. After she had done using the Jarp, it made silly er-uh excuses and fled. There's no tomorrow, Janja thought. What can I do now-what am I qualified to do, among Them? Be a fobbiri dull merchanter after I've gotten used to so much excitement and rushing about?

Retire with my ill-gotten fortune? How do I retire? From what? (From my job: killing Jonuta!) How? There is no tomorrow. I've ended all my tomorrows. And she wallowed in self-doubt and self-pity some more, and wept some more. "Hi,"

Kalahari said brightly, pushing a smile. She was wearing a low-slung, side-hiked miniskirt in green silkeen, with a gold stripe and a slanted row of little ta.s.sels, and a weird sort of criss-crossing, one-shoulder bandeau or "bra" that made even her look s.e.xy. "I came to see how you were doin', Cloud-top. Thought maybe you'd taken root in here!" Her voice and tone were too bright, just as her smile looked forced. She was trying. Too hard. "Hey Janjy- bet you'll pardon me if I mention that you look like h.e.l.l." "Go to h.e.l.l with your solicitous s.h.i.t, you G.o.ddam lesbian!" Janja yelled. Kalahari twitched, stared, blinking, and left without a word. After a while Janja wept some more. 154 She shaped up-to a degree-when they were docked at Terasaki's Ukiyo Station. Decented up and even vanitized to presentability, Janja approached Quindy. Quindy and all the others had donned their red "uniforms,"

seeking to please her. They had judged wrongly; Janja wore a white bare-midriff blouse and loose, hip-slung pants the color of lime sherbet. She also carried a s.p.a.cefarer's go-bag. "Can you handle the cargo dealing, Quindy?

I want to visit the station shop and get some clothes. Whatever they're wearing in Yamato this year." Quindy was taken by surprise but recovered with admirable swiftness. "Of course, Boss," she said with aplomb. "Good idea." She watched Janja go, with mixed emotions. Ship's owner should be with her in this matter of dealing for the offloading and transfer of cargo. Janja needed the experience, and besides Sunmother was her ship. On the other hand, she had obviously spent some time in her cabin researching; at least she knew the name of Terasaki's planetside s.p.a.ceport. And her avowed purpose for leaving the ship so quickly sounded promising. It sounds as if she cares again, Quindy mused. Maybe she'll rejoin the living now, rather than continuing to imitate the living dead. She had no way of seeing Janja walk directly past the station shops and to the shuttle depot. She took the first available shuttle down, took some note of what the apparent natives were wearing, and found a shop.

Inside, she found what she wanted: a helpful clerk and currently fashionable clothing. She chose a loose tunic in turquoise, with a wedge-shaped front and center insert of imitation chainmail-in gold. Self-sashed, the short-sleeved tunic was worn rather sloppily outside, over very long and very loose black pants. She even went along with the wig that made her hair the 155 color so popular in Yamato of Terasaki this year, red. Neither she nor the clerk mentioned doing anything about her skin or her eyes, which showed absolutely no hint of epicanthic fold. To try to copy that would have been silly, though some did. The clerk and shop's manager both paid plenty of attention to the second Agiayan they had ever seen. What pale skin! Those round, pale eyes and incredibly pale hair- almost a shame to hide it under the ukigumo wig! Both Terasaks stared, uncomprehending but politely silent, while the exotic customer calmly fed the trash converter the contents of her go-bag. One, two, three handsome crimson jumpsuits. She did stuff into the bag the clothing she had worn into the store-on top of the jewelry the clerk spotted there. Her cred was very, very good. She bought soft shoes and a black kimono with a meteor shower hand-painted on its back. They went into the go-bag, and she left the shop without ever having smiled. Her very, very good cred swiftly obtained her a room in a small hotel the Satana Coalition was not likely to consider. In that nice old-style room, she spent the next three hours staring at the holocube. She registered none of what it showed and remembered nothing of it. Her mind was busy, though it didn't accomplish much. About the time she began to take note of her hunger, the knock came at the door. Plain old-fashioned knuckles on lacquer-look pressed pla.s.s. She ignored it. Three times she ignored that knocking. Whoever it was did not give up and go away, and at last she sighed and flounced off her body-accommodating cushion to unlatch and yank open the door. Her mouth was poised to chew out the members of the Satana coalition- her crew now, technically-who must have spied on her and tracked her here. 156 The man who stood there was not Trafalgar Cuw or anyone else she had ever seen. Nor was he a member of the old Homeworld "race"

that had anciently settled Terasaki. He was alone. Not particularly tall, neither ugly nor handsome, and he was staring at her without expression. Those cold flat eyes were like chunks of frozen black jade. He flashed some sort of credentials at her and asked to see her papers. "Papers?" Janja was nonplussed and felt stupid. What sort of world was this, anyhow? "Proving who you are,"

he said, moving forward, a wirily slender man with a forehead full of hair and down-curved mustache that looked as if it could never partic.i.p.ate in a smile. Janja did not give away as she should have done under such pressure, as he obviously expected her to do. Consequently they remained rather close-pressed in the doorway of her hotel room. "Where you're from, inoculations, and all that," he said. "It's simply a routine check." "Oh, I-"

she said, and started to turn back into the room. He gained another step.

"Have no papers," he finished for her. "Don't bother showing me that you're-from-Outreach junk!" And Janja was caught so well, taken so completely by surprise and now so completely aback, that he succeeded in entering. The "lacquer" door wheeped shut behind him, framing him in black. "Bet I can get a stopper into my hand faster than you can, Janja," he said, and now he and that mustache and those frozen eyes did indeed smile. 12 Pragmatism is the rule along the s.p.a.ceways and, according to Arauca, is the highest cause and only true philosophy of humankind: Pure Practicality. I say bulls.h.i.t. I'm a pragmatist who doesn't believe Arauca, isn't sure about Descartes, and thinks Morffillon Jasjit is probably the greatest genius in the galaxy. -Trafalgar Cuw Janja and the stranger stood just inside her hotel room, immobile and staring as though they were playing a game of frozen tag. "You have no papers.

None that are real, anyhow. You have never had any papers. You are Janja, not Janjaglaya. You are from Aglaya. You were stolen by slavers and sold on Resh to a dealer and sold again to Chulucan, retired priest of Gri. You murdered him and his son. You bought pa.s.sage to Franji by selling yourself to a s.p.a.cefarer First, serving on Rambler. He too is Aglayan and he is called Whitey-and Flash. You were also helped by a hust-house keeper on Resh, a woman named Kitsko. You used the name of one of her girls, Linshin, You signed on as ship's girl on the IP s.p.a.cer Lion of Islam, which was due in seven days to depart in three-for Qalara. You were very, very intent on getting 157 158 to Qalara. Willing to wh.o.r.e yourself to the crew of Lion of Islam. "Instead, you blew away a man in a bar a few days later-his name must have been Srih, hmmm?-and left Franji in the company of the pirate Corundum. He seems to have vanished from the s.p.a.ceways, but we admit we're not sure what part you had in that. Now you have your own s.p.a.cer and a faked Outie ID. We know this, Janja; please don't bother trying to lie. One question I would appreciate an answer to, Janja. Are you still anxious to get to Qalara?" Hurricane, volcano, earthquake, holocaust. The universe came apart with a great red crash about Janja as the man with the curly black bangs stood there and recited her history. It was all over. Ended. She would be arrested, executed (publicly, to help stave off war or for whatever other reason They invented). She had been destroyed by Jonuta, and she had killed him. Now she would be tried briefly and executed for that "murder." Well, at least he won't continue murdering and stealing people until he dies of old age, wealthy and fat. I did get him. This is the best time to be caught by Authority. Who? What authority? Wait a min- She found no menace in this man's att.i.tude, in his mind. Only a ... blandness.

Interest? Perhaps some in her as a woman. Some in her as a woman off a "barbarian" and "Protected" planet who had nevertheless accomplished what she had accomplished. But she chermed no menace. "Could I see your identification again?" she asked, trying to be as quiet and calm-cool as he. "No. Oh, I forgot; on Franji you also tapped a young a.s.s named Banerjee and a woman named Caramyl. Slavers. And you acquired a few stells, and proceeded to spend every day and most of the nights in the public library. Studying. Your hair is naturally white or nearly-- 159 here's a phrase you didn't know: 'ash-blond'-and your skin naturally much lighter than anyone's and I'll bet there's a stopper under the white miniblouse and pale green pants. Please don't make a try for it, all right?" "Do, uh, do you have a name?" "Not yet." He slid his hand into the front of his jacket-he was dressed so as to be overlookable and thus "invisible," she noticed. Everything he wore was brown.

Yet so as not to be conspicuous by his very drabness, the brown was in three shades and she had a glimpse of a pale yellow shirt. Only the collar showed, . His hand came out of the jacket with a little black package. It was labeled "Bluejoy," and the cover featured a picture of an ecstatic-faced female, young and attractive. He nodded to persuade Janja to follow his gaze with hers. She did. He held out the package and carbonized one of her boots, standing over beside the low bed where she'd left them both. "I do not intend or care to use this on you," he told her, "but I wanted you to understand that I am armed and not with just a flainin' stopper, either. I am fully cognizant of your dangerousness, Janja. You see, I hope to persuade you not to make an attempt on me because I would kill you if necessary but beat the blood out of you in preference. Please go over there and sit in that blue chair! I'll take the orange one with the dragon, so I needn't have to look at it." Doing anything else was not to be considered. When she had seated herself, he did. The chairs were a couple of meters apart. The little package with its deadlier-than-drugs contents lay on his knee. Noticing her gaze, he showed her how fast he could s.n.a.t.c.h and level it. Janja nodded understanding. 160 ''Now, Janja, are you still so desperately intent on reaching Qalara?" "Who are you?" He sighed.

"You want a name. Call me Cougar." That was something, she mused. Labels helped. At least she had something to call him, improbable or no. And he did continually use her name, without prefacing it with the civilizedly-respectful "seety" or even appending the "-sahn" used on Terasaki and a few other planets. "I meant, who are you with, Cougar? I did not have the opportunity to study your credentials. And you did work hard at taking me by surprise and overwhelming me." "Oh." He fished out the card-packet and tossed it to her.

"So you are even clever enough to understand what I was doing, hummm?" The ID said he was a representative of the Reshi Inner Police. The picture matched his face. The name was Sinchung Sin. She looked up. "Nothing here about 'Cougar,' " she said. He shrugged easily. "I like the sound of it. Why have you been so intent on reaching Qalara-and are you still?" Janja regarded him in silence, turning the little ID cards over and over between her fingers.

Considering the distance to him, the distance to her go-bag. Forget that; her stopper was poked down in the chair she'd been sitting in. The orange one emblazoned with the yellow-and-red dragon. The one Sinchung Sin/Cougar now occupied. "No," she said at last. "I have no interest in Qalara." "You mean 'no further interest,' since of course I do know why you've been on this quest. Did you know there was an attempt on his life on Franji's s.p.a.ce station-while you were there? Won't you give it up? Is it only him, or all slavers?'' Attempt? She shook her head. "I have lived for no other reason but him. Other slavers I have not thought about. What do you mean-an 'attempt' on his life? Attempt?" 161 So he doesn't know everything then! Either he doesn't know I'm the one who made the "attempt" back at Franjistation, or he's playing with me . . . some more, she added mentally, knowing that he'd played with her quite a bit already. His use of the word 'attempt' to describe her slaying of Jonuta was probably just that. More toying, more of his amused playing with her. Why didn't Kenowa scream? "Tarkij was long ago. You were saving yourself for him, weren't you, Janja? But since then there have been many men-and women, and Jarps too, I'm sure. It isn't for Tarkij, your quest. It isn't a lover's quest or mission any more. It is pure personal vindictiveness.

Vendetta- there's another new phrase for you; see how much I know? You've been intent on murder, all this time." She shrugged. She was trying to keep her eyes as flat as his, and her expression. "You won't even deny that, Janja?" "Months ago, I had trouble calling up Tarkij's face in my mind," she admitted. "But Jonuta had to be stopped. You are right, Cougar or Sin. It was a personal thing. Vindictiveness, vengeance. It will also save the Aglayans that he would otherwise have killed-or mind-kill, as he has me." "Nonsense.

There are other Jonutas." "Then I have ended one of them," she said immediately. Neither of them had raised its voice a microdecibel. "You are using an odd verb tense-the past. Have you given it up, then?" She stared.

Then she made herself appear impa.s.sive: "I have succeeded." She saw his start, and his own swift control of his expression, his reaction. "Oh. So it was you, on Franjistation. You are guilty of multiple murder on Resh and theft on a couple of other worlds. You are guilty of theft in s.p.a.ce-piracy! Doesn't any of that disturb you?" 162 Pain lashed into her with that, and she shuttered her eyes while she worked anew to calm her self. She nodded slowly, but when she opened her eyes and answered, her gaze and voice were steady and as cool as his. "Of course. It all disturbs me-though if you know so much, you must know what sort of slimy swine those creatures were, on Resh; ex-priest and his son or not. Reshi Inner Police certainly weren't interfering with their cruelties, their murders! Jonuta is guilty of far more, though. As to the man you called Whitey ... I practically forced him to get me off Resh. He is an honorable man, and totally innocent. And Captain Tachi didn't have any idea who I was. Still doesn't, I a.s.sume." He smiled. It was not, she noticed, a mocking smile. This man seemed fully in control of himself. "Kitsko, Linshin, Whitey-all these are guilty of harboring, aiding and abetting a criminal. A murderer. Also of aiding a slave to escape. That of course is a separate charge. One must always search for as many charges as possible in an attempt to be certain that some idiot does not acquit the accused-the guilty. And Whitey? Honorable? Have you heard the phrase 'Uncle Tom'?" She nodded in silence. He raised his black, black eyebrows a little. "I am impressed. You remember its meaning, its ancient application, back on Homeworld? You have studied that deeply?" "On Homeworid there was one race. Galactics. A pale sub-race subjugated the darker sub-races. In one tribe the pale people released the dark from slavery, but continued to dominate them. I think it must have been because it was cheaper to force them out on their own, so that the paler people would not have to house and feed them. The chains of slavery have two ends, after all. By pretending to free their slaves they freed themselves of responsibility for them." He smiled without apparent amus.e.m.e.nt.

"A new theo- 163 ry. You do not possess all the facts, Janja. There was a war and murders and a lot more. But do go on. It is refreshing to hear a new interpretation. Especially from a former slave, hmm?" "Why are we sitting here talking this way? You came for me and found me." His eyebrows went high. "This is better than executing you or cuffing you to take you away to Resh, isn't it? Humor me." "I think that you are enjoying this, Cougar. A cougar is a cat, and cats play with the prey they have caught, don't they. Are all you of Resh s.a.d.i.s.tic lovers of toying with others?" "Not all anybodys or anythings are anything, Janja. You know that. If you don't, you deal in generalities, and that defines 'bigot.' All Aglayans are barbarians and all Reshi are s.a.d.i.s.ts?

Hmm?" She elected to answer his earlier invitation, to go on explicating what she had learned and inferred. "The militant former slaves called those of their own kind who consorted with or sucked up to their former masters and served them meekly . . . 'Uncle Toms.' The edutapes referred me to the phrase 'boot-licker,' and also to an ancient book, which the library did not have." "You have it very well," he told her, steadying the deadly little weapon he carried while he crossed one leg over the other. (They appeared to be good legs, although his brown trousers were not snug.) "Whitey is an Uncle Tom. Whitey told us about you." "No! That is false!" Her eyes suddenly blazed at him in the most defined display of emotion he had seen from her. "He would not have-he could not! An Aglayan ..." "Whitey is not an Aglayan," he told her equably. "He is an Uncle Tom. Would you wear a wig if you were not a fugitive?" "I had forgotten that I am a fugitive," Janja sighed. "I 164 do not think of me as a fugitive. I bought the wig for another reason." Since there was no reason to continue wearing the red wig, she jerked it from her head and tossed it in his direction. (The "Bluejoy" package seemed to leap into his hand and point itself at her. She tried not to smile mockingly.) He studied her hair with a little frown. "Do not all women on Aglaya wear their hair short?" "Pos. Until marriage," she said, using the term of his people; Them.

"I am not on Aglaya and we both know I am far beyond virgin. But Whitey-" "-is not worth discussing, Janja. He wishes to serve, to be accepted. He will never be accepted. You don't give a millistell whether you're accepted or not. Thus you might have been-are, to a degree. Among some. But no, we have taken no action against Whitey. Or Kitsko, or Linshin. We wanted to find you first, Janja. Someone else might." "Someone else might find me first, or might do something to those good and kind people you mentioned?" "Yes," he said, frozen of eye. She sighed. "Cougar: in my go-bag are only clothes. My stopper is stuck into the chair you're in. On the right." She waited until he had found it-never taking his gaze off her-and brought it forth. He held it high to see it, nodded, checked its setting. He boosted it from One to Two. "That stopper is of the outworlds type," she told him. "You wouldn't want me unconscious, would you?" "Oh, I recognize its make. No, I wouldn't. But you aren't going to try anything, are you. That's why you just gave me your weapon." She shook her head. "Right. I am not. I do not believe that Whitey told you of me, Cougar.

He is an Aglayan. You do not understand Aglayans, no matter how much you know." She leaned a little forward and fixed him with a 165 steady stare. '

'What must I do to insure the safety of him, and Kitsko, and Linshin?'' This time he showed his shock. This time she had forced him off balance. Janja was glad, for now he had displayed more emotion-reaction than she, and thus had told her more than she had told him. In other words she was right; Cougar or Sinchung Sin wanted something. "What makes you think-" She cut him off with a triumphant trace of scorn in her voice. "You came here to catch me by surprise and tell me all this. You wanted me to know that you know everything about me.

But you do not, and you want something from me or you'd have arrested me. What is it you want? My body?" "What makes you think-" She tried to flip her fingers, but could not. With a sigh and a grim face she said, "Everyone wants my body." "I'd not turn it down," he said, appraising her with bold eyes. "But if everybody wants your body, Janja, I continue to be the odd one. I want your brain too." She studied him a moment with her head on one side. "My brain is not for sale," she said, wondering if he knew its value. Could he know the secret of Aglayan cherming? Could Whitey have-no! "Those men who have had my body, Cougar . . . none of them has had any part of my mind, or conquered it in the least measure." "The penalty for theft on Resh," he said quietly, gazing into her eyes, "by a slave, is amputation of the right hand. Without regens, Janja. Unless the thief happens to be left-handed . . . The penalty for murder on Resh-by a slave, Janja-is death. Resh is a slaveworld. Do you know what death in the psychoid chamber is?" Janja shrugged and stared with hooded eyes. "Something civilized, and therefore barbarously unpleasant. Slave or otherwise, Cougar, I slew two men who were monsters, on Resh. The father was worse, because he hid all his life 166 beneath the yellow mantle of priesthood. I would gladly slay the present High Priest, too. He also is a murderer, who lurks behind the name of Gri, of religion. My arrangement with Whitey was our business. My action in getting off Franji . . . Jonuta of Qalara had wh.o.r.ed me, and the only way to get to Qalara and him seemed to be as a wh.o.r.e. I am not a wh.o.r.e, and have no wish to play the part, any more than I have desired rape-any of the times your civilized galactic race has raped me. I am going to stand up, now; be ready with your killer ray and my stopper!" "Y-" He broke off, for she stood, not rapidly, and moved about the room. He kept her stopper in his hand, without bothering to aim it at her. "I knew no other way than to play the wh.o.r.e, Cougar. So whence came kindness and rescue? From a pirate! Corundum. An outlaw! You must know or know of the employmaster at the s.p.a.ceport on Franji. That slug offered to house and feed me until Lion of Islam arrived, in exchange for the obvious. The usual! 1 refused. I pa.s.sed up an opportunity too to be trysted by two s.p.a.cefarers. With Corundum I went most willingly. He treated me as what he was-a gentleman. He was also a murdering trickster, and when opportunity came to leave him, I did.

True friendship has come to me from Jarps, Cougar, not your kind!" Standing behind her chair, she stared at him. "I will be a hust only when I must, Cougar. When I stole, it was enough to keep me alive until I reached another .

. . plateau. A major error was in taking nothing from those swine on Resh!" It was a long speech for her. She stopped to take a deep breath and stood straight behind her chair. Veiling her eyes, realizing that she had said much.

Perhaps more than she had said at one time to anyone, ever. And to this stranger! 167 "Agreed," he said, leaning a little forward and fixing her with his nearly black eyes, which he narrowed. (He should not have raised the mustache, she reflected. His eyes are too good to be distracted from by that mustache. It was definitely not an attractive or flattering one, that down-turning growth above his mouth.) "You could have stolen enough to pay your pa.s.sage to Qalara." "I did not consider it. It would not have been right." He sighed, looked strangely at her, leaned back. "Janja, Janja. Not right, you tell me! Not right!" "I have always been prepared to pay a price to get myself to Qalara," she told him. "Whatever the price was-whatever was necessary to catch up to Jonuta. If it had to be paid with this body, very well then. As I told you, those who have had the body have never had the mind.

Only Tarkij could have had that. And Whitey, perhaps. But-" He waved a hand, nodding. "You are a moralist. You are a fanatic, Janja! You have formed your own religion, Janja of Aglaya. And like the founders of many religions, you feel that you have a great and n.o.ble purpose. That you are right, in the Right. Therefore you give yourself license to do anything you want to achieve that purpose. No no now-don't remind me that you have scruples. Petty alley thievery and grand larceny are little different before the law, I'm afraid." Janja was frowning. She saw the truth in what he said. When truth was present, she could not overlook it, no matter how it troubled or discommoded her; the attribute of a good disciplined mind. It disturbed her now. She knew that she had deceived herself, in some areas. But . . .

"Moralist?" "Absolutely." He bobbed his head with vigor, and she watched the flash-flash of light off the frozen chips of jet that served him as eyes. "Oh yes, you are a moralist. 168 Slavery is bad. Jonuta is bad. Jonuta did Janja wrong. Therefore Janja must do him wrong. A worse wrong; she must take his life, mental and physical. Janja's masters on Resh were bad men, therefore it is forgivable for Janja to slay them. She must reach Qalara-you thought, though you'd not have found Jonuta there, of course-and so it was acceptable to use Whitey, to use herself. Selling her body for gain because of n.o.ble purpose. She needed money and others had more than they needed and no such n.o.ble purpose." He nodded, smiling. "Oh yes, Janja. A moralist. Most of you moralists are careful rationalizers, you see. Whole societies have been disrupted and nations ruined by your kind." After a long while she came around her chair and sat. "No nations improved, or birthed?" "None worth talking about. At any rate, now what? You killed Jonuta, is that correct?" "You know that." "I do now. What about your purpose for living then, Janja? What is going to drive you now?" When the seconds dragged on and she did not answer but only stared-looking sad, hard hit-he spoke again. "You aren't of us Galactics, and even fancy that you're better. Jonuta's death was your reason for living, wasn't it?" She nodded, looking down. A glaze came over her eyes; it shimmered. "Then you must seek new purpose, or languish or plain die. You asked me what I wanted of you. Perhaps to give you new purpose. Jonuta is far from the only bad man along the s.p.a.ceways! Others are far, far worse. A moral-less demagogue can do more harm on one planet than Jonuta ever could, selling a few people here and there." Janja raised her head to stare. "Who . .

. are you?" "Surely I will tell you sometime, Janja." 169 "How nice. You want me to do something for you. What? How?" He looked at her shrewdly. "Do you want to, Janja?" Janja blinked. She put her head on one side. After a while she asked, "Do I have a choice? You are going to offer me some sort of bargain, involving whether or not I will be arrested and tried. And killed." "The word is 'executed,' oh my," he said, with a satirical smile.

"How delightfully quick and intelligent you are! Almost Captain Janja, and in such a short time!" She was still, staring, waiting. "Yes, of course I do. You could not only have purpose but be valuable, Janja. Why, you could actually accomplish something! I could have said that thirty mins ago. First I wanted to hear the depths of this self-set mission in your eyes, to hear it. To learn about you-moralist! I didn't want you to accept a proposition from me just to save yourself from punishment. Most would-and I really believe you would be silly enough to reject that!" She sat still, chin high, staring and listening.

Waiting. He looked around. "Someone else might possibly be as sharp on a trail as I am. Suppose we get out of here. Suppose we get off Terasaki together.

It's obvious that you are very, very interested." "Of course I am. I also own a s.p.a.ceship, and have friends. I can't-" "Yes you can. You will." He stood, putting away the spurious stick-pak that housed the awful weapon and hanging onto her stopper as if negligently. "You have to. I want Janja. Captain Janjaglaya of Sunmother won't do." "But I-" "Janja! Listen! You failed. You failed, Janja! Jonuta is alive-alive! You tricked him-he tricked you! Jonuta is not dead. You need not give me that 'You're a liar' stare-any news broadcast can tell you of the attempt on Jonuta, on Franjistation. He is not dead, Janji. He is not 170 even harmed. I will admit that he is most likely a bit peeved!" He gazed serenely at her while she stared, her face working, her eyes bright. "You see? Now you have all sorts of reasons to live again! Come along-get that go-bag and let's go." She came slowly to her feet again, supple as a wild creature. "How do I know . . . how can I trust you?" "You don't," he said, with a tiny smile, eyebrows up. He gestured. "Going to bring your satchel?" "Look here, Cougar, d.a.m.n it-I have to tell my friends something!". "Wrong," he said coolly. "You do not." She lifted the go-bag-and threw it. Powerful legs propelled her after it, pouncing at him. He sidestepped the satchel and beamed her with the stopper while she was in mid-leap. At that he was fast enough to drop the slim cylinder and catch the unconscious blond before she banged limply to the floor. 13 The wrong use of a thing is far worse than the non-use. -Socrates, Euthydemos "You rotten fobbin'

b.a.s.t.a.r.d-you kidnapped me!" "True. You've been kidnapped by the bad guys, Janja. Now you've been s.n.a.t.c.hed by a good guy. That's called poetic justice, or something like that." "Justice? I remember your mentioning that there's no real difference between grand and pet.i.t larceny!" "You're judging by your own concept of morality, Janja. That's a learned att.i.tude, from early experiences and formal teaching. It also depends on adequate emotional development. You're an emotional child, Janja. All scarred up in the head, too," "Noted. Who are you, Cougar? You are not with Reshi Inner Police, no matter what your ID says.

Bigger, I think. More scope and more power-that's made you more arrogant than most policers, even. Who are you? Who is 'we'?" "You've played that tape. I told you I'd tell you later." "Where are we going? What've you done that has my body paralyzed and my mouth and mind free?" "Leaving the mouth free was a mistake. We're going to where I want you to be. I used a drug. Call it frabgipator." "Fra-is that what it's called, really?" 171 172 "Why not?" "You are just wedded to lying, aren't you? You'd rather lie than not!" "Maybe I had my training in a hospital. Trust me." "Can I trust you?" "I can't think of any reason you should. I offer you no promises, Janja. Just purpose. I mean purpose after Jonuta, Janja!" 14 In time interstellar man will come to outnumber all the stay-at-homes who have remained on Earth or in its immediate vicinity. He's the future of our race. -Chris Morgan, Future Man (1980) It hurt, some of it. There were gleaming steel surfaces, some sharp and some not, and blinding lights and a machine that taught her while she was semi-conscious, feeding information into her between the blinks of her eyes.

Remification. Too, they went into her skull with something long and sharp and shiny and incredibly thin, and they did something there, and they did something else with a needle-thin beam of light too. Light with ma.s.s. When she was in position to wonder, she wondered if her brain was taking on ma.s.s along with all this information. She received implants and transplants. All this from men and women all of whom were in gray or in white, in this shining gray-metal place on a gray world to which they had come in a gray ship without markings or name. "Very good, Janja-nine bullseyes! But that tenth shot was off, and you're dead. Again. Turn, holster. Spin and draw and trigger at the count of five. One-two-oh, squat as you fire this time-three-" and 173 174 "Ah, Janja, Janja. One very good hour on the simulator- but in the past two minutes you have taken us right in to the Demonhole. I wish I could just forget modern psychology and beat your a.s.s when you screw up this way. Oops-missed! Naughty, naughty. Try for me again and I'll crotch-kick you-understand? Firm, then-let's go study Jonuta some more." and "Don't you ever get tired, Cougar?" "Nahh-you Aglayans short on endurance or guts or what?" and "Yesterday her adjusted system threw off a direct injection of Pasteurella pestis in less than nine minutes." "Sure, sure. That's only Bubonic Plague. What about something really nasty, like Shanki fever?" "Nothing's like Shanki fever, Sin. You really are a baby-eater, aren't you? Anyhow, we'll try that in a few days." "Great. If she survives she might make it at that. What's she doing now?" "Treadmill. Two gravities, ten k.p.h." "s.h.i.t. Why not give her something hard to do? With those fat-calved legs of hers she can run twenty kloms an hour, in three gravs!" "You trying to kill her, Sin?" "Nah, just raising her like a daughter I want to be strong and mean as a kalpy with mange and rabies." and "It took her exactly three mins thirteen secs to overpower Bull and Suko-she didn't know it was a test and broke two of Suko's fingers. Took her one min and fifty-nine secs to tie them with their own clothing. After ten mins they still hadn't got free." "Good!

Why the big frown, then?" 175 "She seemed to ... go amok, Sin. If Suko weren't experienced it'd be a broken arm stead of two fingers." "Berserker Janja! So set the fingers then, and tell Suko she should be ashamed. She's the one turned up her nose at training a 'simple barbarian girl from some skungeball planet,' wasn't it?" and "No no no, girl, you walk like some barbarian girl off some barbarian planet who's used to walking barefoot and never heard of polite society. Now try to get this through yourAOWW!" "Try teaching me without the snot, Suko, or I'll break the other four on that hand." "What are you, Janja-some kind of s.a.d.i.s.t?" "Don't say that to me, Suko! I've been in the hands of that kind of swine-have you? You don't talk to me that way.

Ever!" "All ... right, Janja." Now do you want to try walking again, and this time think all the while that you're a lady of Ghanj?" "Firm. And if I don't get it right this time I want to go wrestle the android again." and "What happened to Suko?" "I'm your new trainer, Janja. Shut up with the questions and let's see you sip that saufee, instead of guzzling. You make noises like a pig." "Listen you, you may be uglier and bigger than Suko, but you can't-uh!" and "Narzha broke one of Janja's fingers, Sin. 'sthat what you wanted?" "Sure. That p.i.s.sant Suko let her think she's tough. Finger all right?" "Of course!" "Tell Narzha to try kicking her legs out from under her 176 if she gets out of line again-and stomp a little. Janja can take it.

Now get out of here, d.a.m.n it-I'm ears deep in reports. Can you believe some a.s.shole out on Corsi's planetformed moon is actually doing research in nuclear weapons?'' and "... capital, Norcross. Gravity point eight-two-ess. Exports as follows: mercury, enarpan, holomovies, the small, superb, prestige-priced groundcars called Hummingbirds, polykel bearings, Tabulata ceramic-ware-" "All right, Janja. Now Panish." "Panish. Fourth planet of the star Kopernikos.

Capital, Harmony. Gravit-" "How many/s.p.a.ce stations?" "Three." "All right.

What color is Kenowa's hair?" "What is this, Cougar, kiddy-time? She doesn't have any." "Try not to be such a snot, Janja. What's the gravity on Shankar?" and "Mulkraj refuses to have anything further to do with her. He was trying to teach her to walk like a hust-" "What?" "-on high heels and aware of her sensuality, and he made some remark about her background. She kicked him in the t.e.s.t.i.c.l.es." "The what?" "b.a.l.l.s, b.a.l.l.s." "How'd she do?" "Good point, Ratran. She used the flying kick Narzha taught her, and the monitor got it all. Perfect technique. Absolutely beautiful." "Put Mulkraj on cleanup detail and let's see the monitor run of Janja's flying-kick tecnhique. Call me that again and you can try training her!" 177 and "... and when the light becomes blue in this quadrant, you then push lever three. All the way in, until it locks. That's in a standard Raushma cabin, Janja. If you happen to be in a Yuan control-cabin you push lever two down to two, key in B, and depress key three until it clicks. That sets the entire autoplanetfall mechanism into motion. Best thing then is make sure you're zipped and let computer do the rest. However! If the computer is not in full online status and/or you have reason to suspect malfunction-" and "Another report from KT, Ratran. The research on that moon of Corsi." "Keep Janja occupied while I study it. Looks like a mission coming up. Nuclear weapons! The stupid son of a b.i.t.c.h!" and "-and machines machines MACHINES!" "Stop being a silly barbarian.

You are a machine, Janja. A machine fueled and driven by the internal combustion of hydrocarbons. Machines have made you next to immune to diseases-and accidents. Try not to be such a bigot-you are one of the 'Thingmakers,' now. Things bring health, ease, speed, practically instant healing and long life, and ability to acquire all the knowledge machines have made available. Using things and then babbling against them is just bigotry, Janja . . . terminal stupidity!" and "Ratran Yao! But-then why did you tell me your name is Sinchung Sin?" "I didn't. I gave you some ID and you believed it.

Think I'm Reshi?" "You exasperating, lying-you did tell me your name is Cougar!" "True. Cougar's just a nickname . . . Cloud-top." 178 Cougar/Sinchung Sin/Ratran Yao shrugged broad shoulders well padded with muscle. He was a deceptively slender man, packed with muscle. She had learned that he possessed far more strength than he "should," for his size. She also knew that was partly because he was preposterously fast, and just terribly expert. Still, when she wore the tall-heeled boots that she hated but which were "necessary,"

she was as tall as he. Whoever he was. The pain of it was her inability to deny logic and evidence: She had to respect this man. Whatever his name was. "Still a lie." She stared across his desk at him, still stripped after having worked out with some strong, fast, expert goon who had come in from . .

. somewhere. Because, Janja suspected, she had become better than any trainer here-and maybe anyone here. Except, probably, Cougar. That is, Ratran . . .

well, whatever his name was. "You always twist truth and avoid it as if it might burn you." "I'm your chief trainer, Janja. Merely trying to set an example for you." He showed her his exasperating smile. "You had me cold, on Terasaki. Why not tell me then that your name was Ratran Yao? What difference could it possibly haye made?" "A lot. You have used several names, remember?

Ever notice that in the holomellers the villain usually says too d.a.m.ned much and that turns out to be a mistake? Something might have gone wrong. You might have escaped or pa.s.sed a message. In that case you would have been able to pa.s.s my real name . . . 'Linshin.' Janjaglaya Wye." Now his smile had gone mocking. The man who had entered her Terasak hotel room two months ago and "recruited" her seldom smiled or even laughed in genuine mirth. Instead he used smiles. Satirical, or cynical, or mocking. Of course there were those 179 who said that cynicism never existed until his organization was born. "You know how to use false names and places to confuse and cloud, Janja, and you're just a beginner. I'm an expert. On Resh I was Sin Yanshin. At the s.p.a.ceport on Franji I was Humayun and some numbers. At my hotel there I was Tabash and some numbers. And to you, Sinchung Sin. And Cougar." He flipped his fingers. "One name's as good as another, don't you think. And some are better, at times!" "How can I even be sure your name is Ratran Yao?" Finger-flip: "You can't. Everyone here a.s.sumes it is though, and I answer to it. Use it." He shrugged. "I like Cougar, too." So she ignored "Cougar," but began to use the new name. But she shortened it. "Still another ship has been hijacked just outside the Tri-System Accord area." Ratran stared at the messenger. "d.a.m.n!

That's . . . what? Five in the past two months?" "Right. And four in the previous four months. Six in the twelve months preceding." "And even that's a lot! So it's stepping up. No wonder- T-SA hasn't been able to do a thing. So .

. . ?" "So T-SA has asked TAI for help." "TAI!" Ratran Yao's exclamation wasn't in incredulity; it was an unmasked sneer at Terra Alta Imperata, which was hardly TGO. The other man nodded. "Right. No contact to us. Our gal in the T-SA council persuaded someone else to suggest us. The prez-our old friend, you will remember-said he preferred not to ask us for anything, and he got council agreement." Ratran slapped a hand over his heart. "Ah, how the galaxy doth love us, Yash